


The Diamonds

by procrastinatingbookworm



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Mourning, Poetic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-09-20 09:24:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9484838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/procrastinatingbookworm/pseuds/procrastinatingbookworm





	

The Fallen-  
They did not speak her name, after she was gone. It took root and festered in their minds, clawing at the edge of conscious thought, biting at rational calm and tearing away in pieces the mask of stoic leadership. She was referred to only in pronouns between the three of them, a nameless loss, a faceless memory. They did not look at her mural, did not move the cloth draped over her throne, did not venture into her private room, did not add a fourth diamond in the illustration of their power. Some things were best left unseen, unsaid, left to collect dust and shrivel away.  
They did not speak her name, but they loved her all the same.

 

The Mourner-  
She was the only one to walk the line of their silent promise, carry the name in her throat, let her mask fall, weep for her. She entered the crystal room, kneeling at the statue’s feet to grieve. Her grief earned both the distaste and the comfort of the others, their understanding and their frustration. She had loved her most of all, they thought. The things she had left behind were cared for, often in silence and darkness, the actions hidden from those who fought to keep her buried, if only to keep the empty space from drowning them all.  
She did not speak her name, but she wept for her all the same.

 

The Warrior-  
She carried on, as was her way, her mask unfaltering, strong and vicious and determined, working faster, harder, longer, fighting to fill the empty space. It was as if she had never existed some days, the most fierce, crowded days. She waved aside pleasantries and scoffed at worship, forcing herself not to care, to bury memories and weakness along with the name she never spoke. When the ache she carried became too much to lock away, she mourned in song, in deep baritones and operatic highs. She did not cry.  
She tried not to remember, but she loved her all the same.

 

The Puppetmaster-  
She went silent. She had been quiet before, weaving her web of influence without a word to another gem, but now she did not speak at all. She locked herself away to weave her web, and no gem dared disturb her. She was the queen of Homeworld, unchallenged and taken for granted. She planned the movements of their armies, predicted those of the rebellion, and acted accordingly. She did not need to speak to do those things.  
She did not mourn, but she loved her all the same.


End file.
